Star Trek: Fall of the Federation
by saint-nate
Summary: All great empires fall due to their own mistakes. The Federation is no exception.
1. Default Chapter

STAR TREK: FALL OF THE FEDERATION

RATING: PG-13 (Violence)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters or settings to STAR TREK or any of the franchise. I'm not even really a STAR TREK fan. 

CHAPTER I

"You have the look of a man with one foot in the grave and the other in hell," the Ferengi said. 

There were other empty spots in this filthy bar. For some reason, the filed-toothed Ferengi passed right by all of them to sit by Jonah. Jonah ignored him, staring at the spectacle ahead. 

Two Remans, their bodies sculpted from years of working as slaves in the dilithium crystal mines in the dark side of their home world, wrestled behind a force-field. Jonah knew the field wasn't truly invisible, that it really distorted color to make blood appear more vivid against the combatant's leathery skin. He didn't care.

"You can call me Sunyak, if you'd like," the Ferengi said. "What's that you're drinking? Looks like bourbon. Not really my stuff, there. Me, I like a good Klingon wine. I know what you're thinking, and it's hard to believe, but those Klingons do make some mighty fine wine. Ever try it?"

The larger Reman shifted his weight, throwing his opponent off balance. He raised his elbow and dropped it straight down on the smaller one's spine. Jonah watched dispassionately, tuning Sunyak out as easily as he did all of the other patrons.

"Of course, they don't have any Klingon wine here. I'll bet you can't get any on this whole stinking rock. I'd try to import some myself, but who here would buy it? No wonder this world is in the neutral zone. Who'd want it?"

The bigger Reman put his enemy in a headlock and started twisting. Veins started popping out from the smaller one's bulbous head. More than half of the audience booed. 

"And another thing about this planet. Why does it always rain here? I must have been here for three days looking for you, Captain Pillory, and in that time ..."

The smaller Reman sent an uppercut straight into the bigger one's groin. At last he was free of the hold. He buried two jabs straight into his foe's solar plexus. The crowd cheered.

For the first time, Jonah turned away from the fight. He turned until he was staring into the Ferengi's beady eyes, between its cavernous ears and under its bony forehead ridge. "What did you just call me?"

The larger Reman stumbled back. The smaller one moved in to deliver a right hook, but was stopped by a straight punch to his jaw. 

"You are Captain Jonah Pillory, aren't you? You match the description. Just under two meters tall, yellow hair, gray, uh, eye. I'd hate to think all that money we spent tracking you down was wasted on a bad tip."

The bigger Reman grabbed the smaller one's chipped ears and forced his head down. Once again, he held the smaller one in a headlock.

Jonah barely noticed. "Who would want to track me down?"

"Because I represent a group of concerned merchants, and ..." The rest of the Sunyak's words were drowned out. Jonah glanced back to see the smaller Reman had his ear torn off.

Inspired, Jonah grabbed Sunyak by the ear with his right arm. "You're going to have to speak up, I can't hear you," he shouted over the Ferengi's ultrasonic wail.

"We need someone like you," Sunyak screamed. Jonah twisted again. "We need a good ship captain."

The smaller Reman slipped free from the hold, blood pouring freely from his wound. 

Jonah let go. He didn't say a word; he only gazed at Sunyak with disbelief.

Now in a berserk rage, the smaller Reman threw himself on his enemy. His arms and legs flailed madly. More shots connected than didn't.

"We read your Starfleet Academy records," Sunyak said. "We saw that you had the highest scores in strategic and tactical aptitude since James Kirk graduated a century ago. At 32, you were the youngest captain ever to take command of a Starfleet vessel. We also know about your record of disobedience and insubordination."

The bigger Reman couldn't land a counterattack. He began to retreat into a corner, his arms raised defensively.

"Then you know how that story ended," Jonah said. He gestured to the glowing blue glass eye that penetrated the flame-scarred right side of his face with his cybernetic left arm. "I don't have a ship. I don't have a crew. I was drummed out of Starfleet. I'm not a captain. Call me Jonah. At least I am one of those."

The bigger Reman tried to regain control of the fight by throwing a haymaker. It would have been devastating if it had hit; instead the smaller one trapped his wrist.

"I know all about that, captain, er, Jonah. Frankly, we think you made the right decision. That's the main reason we're coming to you."

The sound of the bigger Reman's wrist breaking managed to rise above the crowd's cheers. Jonah could almost hear him scream for mercy.

Jonah waited until the crowd died down. It took a few minutes for all the bets to be settled. By the time the background noise level dropped enough for him to speak, Jonah had thought about what Sunyak said.

"What do you want from me?" Jonah said.

"Oh, I can only tell you that if you take the job," Sunyak replied. "After all, this is a sensitive matter, and loose lips sink ships. 

"I'll tell you this much: We want you to do what you're best at, with minimal risk to yourself. In return, we'll give you a generous compensation. Do real well, you could get a rather lucrative ongoing job out of this."

Jonah turned away. He watched the maintenance droids step into the fighting pit, methodically spraying away blood and teeth from the last battle. 

"You have nothing to lose," Sunyak said. "Maybe you like doing cleanup work at the space docks under an assumed name, but we all know you're overqualified for that job."

As the crowd cleared, Jonah saw a familiar face at the bar. Since he first started coming to this hole-in-the-wall three nights ago, there had been only two characters that had consistently shown up. The man at the bar was the first. The second was coming soon.

Judging by his delicate features, Jonah figured the regular was Betazoid. His black hair, once cut short, was now a spiky shag. Combined with the dark-blue synthetic leather sports coat and sunglasses he always wore, he could have been some disheveled Federation starship-trash. As usual, he had a glass of golden yellow liquor in front of him. He grinned as though he knew he was being watched but didn't raise his head.

"Of course, if you like your life of menial labor and drowning your troubles in replicator-made bourbon, that's your choice," Sunyak continued. " I won't force you to do anything. I just thought you'd like the chance to turn your life around."

The second regular, a Klingon, limped into the fighting pit. She was the sort of Klingon a human could easily find attractive, even beautiful if he liked muscular women. That is, she would be if her face weren't swollen from too many punches. Her left arm also hung weakly from its socket, apparently hyper extended. 

The announcer grabbed a microphone and barked some unintelligible words. Only a respectful silence followed. No one cheered, no one clapped, no one booed. 

"If you'd like more time to think about it, we can talk tomorrow. I'll give you some more details, then ask for your final answer. But that's the deadline. I've already wasted too much time finding you. If you're not taking this job, we'll have to get someone else quickly."

An amazingly obese human entered the other side of the pit. He was the kind that seems to show up at every mining world, the guy who gets fat by beating up smaller workers and taking their rations. He turned and raised his fists to the crowd, arousing a bloodthirsty cheer from their ranks. A round of applause marked his entrance.

Jonah gestured to the Klingon. "I'll make you a deal," he said to Sunyak "That woman has fought for the past three nights. She hasn't lost yet. She can't lose and live, this one is the death match, the last night of the night.

"If she wins, I'll meet you tomorrow and we'll talk. You name the time and place. If not, you better start looking for someone else."


	2. Chapter II

CHAPTER II

"If it's any consolation, she thought she'd lose, too." Each of the Betazoid's words carried the scent of black licorice and alcohol. He sat where the Ferengi had been an hour before. 

Jonah didn't raise his head. He continued to play with the square of paper in front of him. Written in the middle in English characters warped by a Ferengi's hand was the number of a space port dock and a time, just less than 20 hours from now. 

Jonah had barely moved since the Klingon woman break free from a sleeper hold. Up until that point, the human was dominating the fight. He had slammed her against the force field, pounded her face until she spit a spray of blood. Then he fell on top of her. First he took her leg and twisted it until he heard the knee joint pop over the crowd's cheers. Then he grabbed her hair and forced her head up.

When he closed his arms around her exposed neck, Jonah had already decided what to tell the Ferengi. He didn't expect the Klingon to ram her fingers into the human's eyes. 

The human never had a chance to recover. After that, the Klingon grabbed his throat with her good arm and squeezed. The human did manage to get free after furiously tearing at her arm, but by then his larynx was crushed. 

The fight was won. The Klingon crawled out from under the human. He slumped back against the force field, gurgling pathetically as blood poured from his eyes.

The crowd had one silent. It's not that they hated the Klingon, Jonah knew, but they knew this wasn't what anyone wanted. When she first stepped into the ring three nights ago, she declared she would keep fighting until she as killed in battle. Jonah was no expert of Klingon culture, but he knew the most honorable death they could hope for was by killing their enemy and themselves at the same time. Failing in that, being killed in combat was acceptable. Slowly dying from wounds was seen as less than undignified, just a little better than dying of old age. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to let anyone kill her.

"The owner's going to throw her out tonight," the Betazoid said. "I heard him think that the house lost too much money on her. These past few nights the odds were really high and the house didn't expect to pay. Poor Klingon's probably going to die lying in some pile of garbage. I don't think anyone would consider that an honorable death. Hey, are you going to finish that bourbon?"

Before Jonah could answer, the Betazoid had emptied what little liquid remained in the glass. "Cheers, mate. You're the best."

"You can read minds, right?" Jonah asked flatly. "Then you've got to know how close I am to ramming that empty glass into your face."

The Betazoid only smiled, showing no fear or offense. "There's no need to be rude. Actually, Jonah, you may want to start making some friends. You're about to enter into a deal with the Ferengi with no one watching your back. It'd be a lot safer kissing a Borg queen."

"That's the second time tonight someone's said my name before I knew his. I'm really getting sick of it."

The Betazoid extended his hand. "Call me Versinthe. It's not my real name, but a man should be allowed to name himself after his favorite poison if he wants to. I was the one who told the Ferengis where you were when they offered a reward for your location. So, in effect, I set you up with a great opportunity and you paid for all my drinks tonight. If that doesn't make us friends, I don't know what does." 

Jonah ignored the gesture. "If you can read minds, you probably know what I'm getting myself into better than I do."

Versinthe withdrew his hand. "If I did, I'd gladly tell you everything to show what a nice guy I am. Unfortunately, I can't read a Ferengi's mind. That's just one more reason not to trust them. As it stands, I know only what you heard."

"So why do you want to be my friend?"

"Because it sounds like you're getting off this world. I don't think Sunyak tracked you down because you're good with a mop. And if I'm right, then you'll have the chance to leave this world and take a couple of people along."

Jonah smirked. "It's going to take a lot more than a few warm feelings to make me let a drunk tag along. Especially one who looks like he could get his ass kicked by a Bajoran."

Once again, Versinthe refused to show any offense. "I would welcome the opportunity to go. I'm a chemist and, granted, that's not the most useful profession to have on a starship venture. I also know a little about medicine, although less than any qualified ship's doctor. 

"I can hear you wondering, 'Why should I bring him along?' so I'll answer before you can ask. My main asset is that I can offer you whatever support you need to make a sound decision. Ever since that incident three and a half years ago, you've had nothing but doubt for your own intuition. Rest assured that, with me by your side, your finer notions will see fruition while any bad ideas will vanish in a mist of silence." 

"Such an intellectual on such a world of rejects. How did you end up here?"

"Like you, I'm a bit of a persona non grata. Unlike you, I can not say I did the right thing in the face of unfair rules and regulations. No, I didn't violate the Prime Directive to save the lives of hundreds like you did. I only ripped off some Cardassian drug lords by contaminating a batch of dry-rad.

"I originally came here to hide. I'd leave if I had anywhere else to go. The Federation criminalizes immigration, so that rules out the choicest worlds; Klingons are Federation puppets these days; Romulons disapprove of my kind; and anywhere else I'm likely to run into old enemies. The only way I can leave this planet without arousing attention is by going under an aegis of secrecy, such as one provided by a hush-hush mission." 

Jonah rolled his human eye. "If you want a cut of the action, you ask the Ferengis for it. My share is my share"

"I've no issue there. All I need is enough to drink myself into oblivion when I'm not needed for anything else. I've still got enough squirreled away for that. Dying on any world but this one is reward enough for me."

"In that case, follow me if you want to. I really don't care. Don't expect me to stick my neck out for you."

"Very good. May I say I'm far more enthusiastic about being a member of your crew than you are about anything." Versinthe's smile widened. "So far, you have an advisor. The next person you recruit should be a good bodyguard. One who was loyal to you, the kind who's life you saved once and would be forever grateful."

Jonah shook his head. He was about to ask what meant when he heard a Klingon woman's voice screaming from the back. Her cries were just louder than a human bellowing, "Get out, you filthy slag. No more fights for you."

"Yes, that's who I was talking about," Versinthe said just after Jonah had arrived at the conclusion. "Her name is Korba. The poor girl was challenged to a duel by her younger sister, some argument over a man. Only a warlike race like the Klingons could be so passionate. They take romance far more seriously than we Betazoids do. 

"As it happened, she could have killed her sister. Instead, she surrendered, unable to kill her own kin. It's sad, really. That act of compassion cost her everything, her family, her position as a gunner in the Klingon fleet, and set off the course of events that brought her here. Ah, the ties of family. Amazing how sometimes these bonds give us support and other times they strangle us, isn't it?" 

Versinthe leaned closer, sending alcoholic vapors into Jonah's face. "So tell me. If you met someone without friends who wanted to die, what would be the greater act of mercy: to kill them or befriend them?"

Jonah heard the backdoor slam shut. There were no more screams.

"Why do you care what happens to her? More to the point, why should I care?"

The grin finally disappeared from Versinthe's face. "Remember what I said about making friends? I know you were betrayed by your old crew. They were just a bunch of Starfleet officer class who had no interest in your fate. It doesn't matter what you do for that kind, they think only of your career.

"Friends are different. Those who know that a better life for you means a better life for them will not sell you out. Trust is stronger than duty. Trust me."


	3. Chapter III

CHAPTER III

"Trust me," Versinthe said. "I would have been a doctor if I didn't drop out of med school."

Korba didn't exactly resist Versinthe's efforts to take her wounds, but she didn't cooperate either. She offered no resistance when they picked her up beyond grunting a Klingon curse. She hadn't said a word since the two of them carried her from the alley behind the bar to Versinthe's squalid one-room apartment. Jonah figured she was unconscious for most of the time.

Remembering the night, Jonah was amazed he was able to walk across the floor of empty liquor bottles without breaking his ankles. More than that, he was amazed that Versinthe managed to pull out a black bag's worth of medical instruments from the tattered knapsack he used as a pillow. 

It only took a few minutes for Versinthe to go through all his electronic instruments. When he was done, Korba's face was notably less swollen and her breathing was less labored. But she was still a mess. Apparently, whatever equipment Versinthe had for knitting bones together no longer worked. 

It took Jonah and Versinthe two extra hours to put one of her legs in a splint, put her arm in a sling, improvise a shoulder immobilizer for a broken clavicle and lash together a pair of crutches from metal parts found in the trash. By the time Jonah had finished the last knot, he noticed Versinthe was passed out in a pile of dirty clothes.

Jonah himself had just enough energy to get back to the bunkhouse he called home for the past three cycles. He climbed inside his coffin-sized sleeping compartment, hooked his cyberware to the charging cords, and tried to catch a an hour of sleep. 

It never came. All he could do was think about Sunyak's proposition. 

Every time Jonah saw a new ship enter the spaceport, he sad a silent prayer that, somehow, he could be a captain again, that somehow, he would be given the opportunity again despite his past disgrace. Now that it happened, he was more terrified than he could admit to himself.

If Versinthe hadn't come along, Jonah had no doubt he would have deliberately skipped his appointment with Sunyak. The truth was, he doubted he actually could command respect from a crew. 

He thought he had his crew's respect before, but when the crucial moment came they abandoned him. Up until that point, Jonah thought he knew everything. He was, after all, the highest scoring cadet in the history of the Starfleet Academy. Even the professors who chastised him for his cocksure disposition couldn't help praising his abilities. His career was moving quickly he seriously believed he'd make admiral before turning 40. Not bad at all for someone with working class roots.

All it took was one bad decision to end it all. Despite the consequences, Jonah couldn't bring himself to regret what he had done. As captain, he always felt his first duty was to his crew, no matter what they thought of him. He saved the lives of those who counted on him. If he had it all to do over again, he would have done the same.

Jonah turned over and thought of Versinthe. It was hard to like Betazoids, as they always knew what you were thinking and rarely gave a clue about their true motives. Worse, they had no respect for privacy. They were known for casually going through people's thoughts, memories and subconscious urges as casually as one would notice signs along the road. 

So Jonah wondered, what did Versinthe hope to gain by helping him? It couldn't be a swindle, as all Jonah had were a few changes of clothes and just enough extra credits to go to a bar a few nights a week. The only conclusion that made sense was that he was a self-loathing alcoholic who wanted one last adventure.

Overall, he was still a lot more trustworthy than Sunyak. Jonah prided himself in not being a racist, but Ferengi culture was one built on competition and subterfuge. And Sunyak had pressured him into accepting a job without telling him what it was first. Jonah wouldn't have blamed anyone for calling him an idiot for getting into such a situation in the first place.

Jonah managed to fall asleep just as alarm went off. He had pulled his work clothes out from a drawer near his feet when he decided, forget it. He was committed to Sunyak's venture. For almost three cycles he slaved away at that brainless job, not saying a word for fear it'd jog someone's memory about the interstellar scandal he caused. This was a chance to get away from that, perhaps the only chance he'd get. 

Jonah lay in the compartment for a few more sleepless hours. Finally he got up, packed what few possessions he had into his jacket pockets and climbed out. 

He spent most of the rest of the day wondering around the city. It always did rain here; Jonah was sure if there was a sunny day in the past three years it would have stuck out in his memories. There were days when it was only a misty drizzle, and those were few and far between.

Ultimately he wandered back to Versinthe's apartment. The Betazoid was awake and visibly drunk. Even though he was stumbling over his own garbage, he still had enough balance to help Korba put crutches under her arms.

The Klingon still hadn't said a word. She seemed to be disassociating from everything around her. Jonah started wondering if she had gotten brain damaged from her fights. Versinthe, however, insisted she was cognitive and more than grateful for all their help.

In any other world, the sight of a drunken Betazoid supporting a stumbling Klingon as they followed a surly cyborg would have aroused attention. On this nameless backwater neutral zone world, though, they were one of the least freakish packs traveling down the street. No one stood in their way.

Jonah was glad that Sunyak arranged to meet on the opposite side of the docks from where he worked. He had to skip his shift to help Versinthe take care of the Klingon for the rest of the night and most of the day. The last thing he wanted was to run into his supervisor. He was finally feeling better about himself, and the last thing he needed was to be dressed down in front of his new associates.

Sunyak was already at the space port when Jonah arrived. "Right on time," the Ferengi said, glancing at a watch hung around his neck. "I respect that. It shows discipline. Well, climb aboard."

Sunyak gestured to a compact shuttle behind him. "I don't know why you brought these two along, but you're the only one I'm interested in hiring."

"They're with me," Jonah said. "As far as I'm concerned, they got me into this mess. Him, by telling you where I was, and her by making me lose a bet." 

"We already have a crew assembled for you."

"Then we now have a backup gunner and an assistant to the ship's doctor. They're coming with me."

"Oh, those are their specialties?" Sunyak rubbed his chin. "All right, they can come, but their pay will mean a smaller share for you."

The shuttle was every bit as spartan on the inside as it was on the outside. Just as the exterior didn't have any paint covering its meteor-beaten hull, the inside consisted of two passeger seats with shredded coverings. Sunyak climbed into the pilot's seat and gestured for Jonah to take the co-pilot's position.

"Let me give you a little background, Jonah," Sunyak said as he steered his ship out of the docks. "As you know, the Federation doesn't look kindly on trade. They've gotten rid of money and demonized the accumulation of private wealth so it wouldn't be an 'incentive.' However, they can't stop people from wanting more than they're given. You really can't stop them from wanting what they're not allowed to have. 

"This has led to a thriving black market industry that stretches across Federation's borders. Federation credits may be almost worthless, but anyone can convert their assets into valuable goods. The system is safer to deal in than you may think because the government usually turns a blind eye to the trade. In the end, they're the ones that benefit from some economic stimulus."

"Of course, the Ferengis couldn't avoid getting involved in this," Jonah said. He glanced behind him. Versinthe was passed out with his head thrown over the back of the chair. Korba glared right back. She really didn't seem that grateful 

"It's not just us. The Romulans have been in on this racket since it started. They set up trafficking routes right after they realized humans would pay for their ale."

The shuttle began passing through the thick clouds. Soon, Jonah told himself, I'll see the stars for the first time in almost three years. Hard to believe it's been so long.

"If the Romulans just stuck to ale, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Sunyak continued. "But they didn't. They realized just how profitable that racket was and started muscling in on our action."

Jonah's jaw dropped when he saw the stars again. So many small lights sparkling in the endless black of space stretching back further than comprehension would allow. It had been so long, he forgot the quiet sense of wonder they filled him with. He felt the same way he did the first time he went Earth's orbit, strangely comfortable in the endless void.

"And I mean all areas of our action. They've got their own versions of everything we've got - weapons, drugs, real alcohol, clothing, gems, artifacts both genuine and bogus, and practically any other luxury you can name.

"Now, normally, us Ferengis would welcome a little friendly competition. I mean, trade is to our culture what violence is to the Klingons. It's what we live for. But the Romulans have an unfair advantage. Not only is their empire larger than our alliance, its planets contain more raw materials than ours do. That means they can make most of the things we have to import to resell."

"In other words, they can sell for less than you and make more of a profit," Jonah said, still staring out the window. Somewhere out there, he thought, was Nede, the sort of planet explorers dream about finding. The beautiful, forbidden world of Nede. 

The shuttle seemed to be headed towards one of the planet's moons. Funny, Jonah thought, that I've been on that planet for so long and never saw any of its moons.

"Exactly. Thank you. Most Federation natives don't have a rudimentary knowledge of economics, but you clearly do. That'll make the rest of the story easier.

"If we're going to get the edge on those lumpy-forehead thugs, we're going to have to resort to some new methods. Namely, we're going to have to make their supply of certain items drop while ours increases."

"And how does this concern me?" Jonah had arrived at a conclusion. He hoped he was wrong.

Sunyak circled the moon, heading for its dark half. The crater-ridden surface made Jonah nostalgic for the lonely moon that orbited Earth.

"I'll put this simply. We need someone to steal loaded Romulan trading vessels from the spaceways."

"In other words, you want me to be a pirate."

"Pirate is such an ugly word," Sunyak steered the ship into a deep crater. "You're going to be working in the national interest of an employer. There's another word for that, isn't there?"

"Privateer," Versinthe chimed in.

"Yes that's it," Sunyak said as he landed the ship at the bottom of the crater. "Actually, I guess that's not much of a better word."

"I don't think I'm interested in this," Jonah said.

"Very well, then," Sunyak said. "The ship's door is right next to you. Just step outside. Take a suit if you want, it'll delay your death a few hours."

Jonah sighed. For the first time, he appreciated Versinthe's advice. Jonah could usually outthink his opponents, but this race was skilled at duplicity. At least he had someone making sure he wasn't literally being backstabbed.

The ship sank down in the shadows, further than Jonah had estimated the crater to reach. Nothing but darkness surrounded the ship in its descent. 

Suddenly Jonah's human eye was blinded by light. His cyber-eye automatically adjusted so quickly he could see the ship descend through the floor of the crater, into what looked like a hidden loading bay beneath them.

"How did you do this, did you put a hologram over a force field?" Jonah said.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how many moons have hidden bases like this," Sunyak said. "Right after I land this thing, I'll introduce you to your crew. They're waiting on your ship, captain."


End file.
